WAYS OF NATURE 



whole body; his abdomen fairly palpitates with the 

 effort. 



The coon knows when the corn is in the milk, 

 gaining that knowledge, no doubt, through his nose. 

 At times he seems to know enough, too, to cut off 

 his foot when caught in a trap, especially if the foot 

 becomes frozen; but if you tell me he will treat his 

 wound by smearing it with pitch or anything else, 

 or in any way except by licking it, I shall discredit 

 you. The practice of the art of healing by the 

 application of external or foreign substances is a 

 conception entirely beyond the capacity of any of 

 the lower animals. If such a practice had been 

 necessary for the continuance of the species, it 

 would probably have been used. The knowledge 

 it implies could not be inherited; it must needs 

 come by experience. When a fowl eats gravel or 

 sand, is it probable that the fowl knows what the 

 practice is for, or has any notion at all about the 

 matter? It has a craving for the gravel, that is 

 all. Nature is wise for it. 



The ostrich is described by those who know it in- 

 timately as the most stupid and witless of birds, and 

 yet before leaving its eggs exposed to the hot African 

 sun, the parent bird knows enough to put a large 

 pinch of sand on the top of each of them, in order, 

 it is said, to shade and protect the germ, which 

 always rises to the highest point of the egg. This 

 act certainly cannot be the result of knowledge, as 

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